


Merlin's Knight

by AeonTheDimensionalGirl



Series: Merthur Kiss Fest [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actually A Lot of Kisses, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Post Episode; s02e07 The Witchfinder, Protective Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonTheDimensionalGirl/pseuds/AeonTheDimensionalGirl
Summary: He comes in the dark of night; never speaking or letting his full face show, but Merlin appreciates the company anyway.After all, who’s foolish enough to venture into the dungeons and comfort an accused sorcerer?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merthur Kiss Fest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597276
Comments: 83
Kudos: 1488
Collections: The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019





	Merlin's Knight

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Guess who~~
> 
> For the Merthur Kiss Fest, week 2: Summer Kisses

Merlin is dreading today.

He doesn’t really mind the days in which King Uther holds open court so the citizens and villagers of Camelot may come in to settle disputes or ask for help, but today just feels… off.

The young warlock has listened with rapt attention (carefully hidden, of course) to what the people of Camelot have to say, but nothing out of the ordinary has been spoken. No mentions of bandits attacking, magical creatures or rouge sorcerers. It’s been fairly calm all day, even the weather has been nice.

That should be enough for him to relax, but his magic is feeling restless, and that’s usually a sign that something bad is about to happen.

Merlin simply wishes he knew exactly _what_ though. A small clue (that did not involve any ridiculous riddles) might be nice for once.

And because apparently destiny has it against him, it’s not until the hearings are over, just when Merlin has allowed himself a moment to breathe, when it happens.

The guards are closing the doors when a man pushes them open as if he were the king; dressed in plain yet long white robes of rough material, he walks in with well-planned strides and an air of frivolous purpose.

Despite de warm weather, Merlin can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine when the man’s cold grey eyes meet with his own blue for a split moment before he centers his attention once again on Uther, Arthur and Morgana, greeting them with a low bow.

The Crown Prince and the King’s Ward both look confused and even a little wary over the sudden appearance of the man, but Uther seems to have been expecting him to show up, as he greets him with a small nod before gesturing him to speak.

“My lords and lady” his voice is soft, but there’s something in it that’s making the magic in Merlin’s skin crawl, “I’ve done as you ask, your majesty” he continues as he looks straight at Uther, “After a secretive investigation that I pulled out all night-”

- _‘Night? He’s been here since yesterday?’_ Merlin wonders with a small frown-

“-I have finally drawn out the first hidden sorcerer in your court!”

Merlin feels as if the ground had crumbled below him when the man- _Witchfinder_ , Gods, he’s another Witchfinder- delivers his line. By the corner of his eye he can see Morgana flinching just slightly before straightening up and regarding the Witchfinder with a cold look.

Arthur, on the other hand, is looking at his father with what the manservant can only describe as barely hidden outrage.

“Father, I didn’t know we were employing a new Witchfinder” the Crown Prince says with a terse tone. Uther simply gave his son a hard look.

“Must I remind you, Arthur, that our last witchfinder was not only proven to be a fraud, but a sorcerer too?” the king replies. At the mention of Aredian, the new Witchfinder seemed to momentarily tense, “So of course I employed another. Sorcery is a plague in this kingdom that must be eradicated”

“Well said, my lord” the Witchfinder says with a twisted smile that brings a horrible sense of familiarity to Merlin.

“So” Uther asks, “Who is it?”

The Witchfinder’s lips curl.

Merlin is trying to keep his breathing calm, and its taking a considerable effort to prevent his hands from shaking. His magic is restless, curling at the pit of his stomach.

 _‘Run’_ it seems to scream, _‘Run’_

“He stands in this very room” the Witchfinder reveals, before turning his head slightly and his eyes meet Merlin’s.

_‘Run!’_

“Merlin”

The warlock doesn’t even have time to react before two of the guards roughly grab and drag him to the center of the throne room. He has to bit back a cry when they push him down and his knees make contact with the hard floor.

As he tries blinking back the pain, a callused hand grabs Merlin by the back of his neck, forcing him to look up. Uther looks outraged, while Arthur and Morgana look livid. From the corner of his right eye, Merlin can see that the Witchfinder is pleased at the reactions.

“Father” Arthur’s voice is steel, “Surely you must remember that there’s also a possibility of him also being a fraud?” he grits out.

For a moment, his sapphire eyes meet Merlin’s, and it’s almost comforting to know that his friend has some faith in him.

(But it breaks the warlock’s own heart as well. Arthur doesn’t know that this Witchfinder is actually right)

At Uther’s slight shift of doubt, the Witchfinder is quick to speak again.

“With all due respect, my lord” he starts, this time making his voice sounds sweeter as he looks at the king, “I took the liberty to ask around a few nobles and citizens, and imagine how worried I was, when I found out that this boy not only has been accused of sorcery before, but he even confessed once?” he tilts his head while at the same time his grip on Merlin’s neck becomes more uncomfortable.

His magic flares, eager to be let out to protect him, but the raven pushes it down.

“The confession was an act of idiocy, he’s known to have a mental affliction” Uther says, looking almost amused at the memory before sobering, a frown in his features, “However, he _has_ been accused before…” he trails off, and Merlin is dreading what comes next.

He wants to say something, but he knows, _he knows_ that if he even attempts to open his mouth, the Witchfinder will use it against him in front of the king.

“Father, must I remind you that Merlin has been nothing but a loyal and faithful servant for the past three years?” Arthur is quick to point out, frowning at the king before turning to the Witchfinder, “What’s your evidence?”

Merlin briefly thinks to his magic book, carefully hidden under the floorboards under his bed alongside a shrinked magic staff. There’s no way they were found.

“Ah, Prince Arthur” the man’s voice has taken a disgustingly soothing tone, as he were trying to calm down a startled animal, “Surely, is it not enough evidence my word and the one of your concerned people? You must admit that strange things happen around the boy”

Merlin can’t help but roll his eyes at this. Of all things, _this_ is what’s getting him tossed in the cells and killed? Word of mouth?

Maiden’s mercy, even Arthur looks unimpressed. He turns to look at Uther, who’s poitently ignoring Morgana’s glare.

“Don’t tell me you find this unusual” the Crown Prince calls on.

Probably for the first time since coming into Camelot, Merlin sees conflicting emotions pass through the king’s face before the usual impassive look is back on.

“Very well then” Uther says as he turns to look at the accused secret sorcerer and the Witchfinder, “You will question the boy for two days. Shall he confess…” he trails off once again, the meaning clear in the air.

Merlin can’t help but gulp while the anxiety he has been feeling increases; his magic feeling like a whirlwind in his body.

“And if he doesn’t?” Morgana finally speaks up, regarding her guardian with a hard look that promises hell to pay should he give the wrong answer. Arthur has a similar look on his face, and for a moment Uther seems to squirm under both glares.

“He will receive an apology” he drawls before nodding to the Witchfinder and saying the words that practically seal Merlin’s fate, “He’s all yours”

* * *

As he’s dragged towards the dungeons, Merlin’s mind is swirling with one thing only: Gaius advice of not confessing to anything a wichfinder is accusing you of.

He can’t also shake the feeling that this new Witchfinder is familiar, but he just when he believes he’s about to get to a conclusion, they’ve reached the end of the dungeon hall, were the cells are tinier, windowless and with only small amounts of hay laying around; they’re usually reserved for the worst of Camelot’s criminals.

The guards throw Merlin into what seems to be the cell most reduced of space before leaving him alone with the Witchfinder, who’s regarding the raven with a sadistic smile on his face.

Merlin simply glares at him in return.

“Hmm, nothing to confess, sorcerer?” the Witchfinder taunts as he approaches the manservant, circling around him like a vulture before he takes out a pair of individual iron cuffs.

His magic can only flare inside him in alarm before the cuffs are roughly clasped on his wrists. Merlin can’t help the painful gasp from escaping his lips as he feels what can only be described as fist enclosing itself on his insides, clenching and smothering his magic away-

_Cold iron._

It’s no longer than a second, but for Merlin it feels like an agonizing eternity. He swallows the pain, focusing on scowling once again at the monster in front of him.

But the Witchfinder looks delighted at the effect, grinning like a child who just received an early Yuletide gift. He laughs before grabbing and forcing Merlin’s chin up, his smile cold.

“If you honestly believe you will come out of this alive, you are sadly mistaken” he declares while a callused finger traces the raven’s mouth, “My father taught me that no one is innocent”

“Your father?” Merlin manages to rasp out, feeling slightly out of breath thanks to the pain in his body.

The Witchfinder smirks, and finally, Merlin realizes where he last saw a similar look.

“As if you haven’t figured it out” his captor drawls out, almost bored.

“Aredian” the raven whispers, horror starting to form in his stomach. This isn’t just an stupid accusation, its revenge-

“Clever one, aren’t you” the Witchfinder laughs again, “My father might not have gotten the chance to get his hands on you, but _oh_ -” his smile is once more sadistic as he pulls Merlin by the hair, forcing him up as he hooks a chain laying in the cell to the cuffs.

The raven tries to fight him off, but the minimal movement causes the cold iron cuffs to act out and the warlock feels like a thousand knives are being carved unto his body. By the time his arms are hoisted up by the chains, he’s resorted to biting his lips to prevent his screams from coming out.

The Witchfinder simply chuckles at the sight.

“-I _will_ make sure you burn, birdie. Just you wait”

* * *

It’s agony.

The Witchfinder not only had chosen the smallest and most uncomfortable of the cells, he also chose the one in which the warm summer air made the walls a damned heat box. Merlin has been subjected to punches in the stomach, backhanded slaps to his face and small whippings, all while his interrogator laughed and demanded a confession for Uther.

(None the less, he refuses to scream. He won’t give that monster the satisfaction)

By the end of the day, Merlin’s not sure if its sweat or blood what’s running down his body.

When the night has taken over and there’s no light left in the cell, the Witchfinder simply unhooks the cuffs from the chains, and the raven unceremoniously crashes towards the floor.

He faints right there, the pain of the suppression of his magic and the assault unbearable.

* * *

Merlin doesn’t know how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again.

Groaning, he does his best to try and sit up without rattling the iron cuffs, but his attempts are useless; by the time he’s managed to lay against the wall, Merlin is panting from the effort.

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, but _everything hurts_. His throat is sore from thirst, the cuts caused by the whips are probably getting infected thanks to all the sweat and grime, and if the punching continues the next day, he’s sure his ribcage will bruise.

The worst thing, however, is the iron cuffs.

Merlin heard of them, back when he lived in Ealdor. It was said that King Cendred’s knights carried them in order to easily catch and submit sorcerers to the king’s will. In Merlin’s humble opinion, the reality was so much worse. He feels like his own soul is being taken away from him.

He’s still trying to regain his breathing when a sudden clank outside the cell startles him.

Biting back a moan of discomfort, Merlin tries his best to identify the source of the sound (he swears that if he has to fight _another_ rat-)

But the cell it’s nearly in complete darkness, save for some weak streams of moonlight that manage to filter from the hallway, making it impossible to properly see.

And yet, he manages to catch a flurry of movement by the corner of his eye, too big to be a rat.

“Who-” Merlin mumbles, eyes squinting, “Who’s there?” he asks with a low voice, feeling unsure. Gods, if it’s Aredian’s son again-

The sound of a flint lightning up interrupts his line of thought, and a single candle illuminates a hooded figure just outside his cell door. Merlin can’t help the startled gasp that escapes him.

“Who are you?” he demands, trying hard not to flinch as he attempts to move away.

But the figure raises their hands in a placating gesture, and despite his hesitation, Merlin stops moving. Seemingly pleased, his guest lowers the guard before crouching on the floor, placing the candle holder next to him before taking out a small dagger to pick the lock from the cell.

Merlin isn’t really sure how to react in the meantime, so he resorts to studying his companion. The candle provides little but slightly better light, but the hooded figure seems to be a man, slightly bulky thanks to the ratted and dirty cloak, and wears leather gloves to hide his hands.

His guest then finally manages to pick the lock before picking up the candle and entering the cell.

They stare at each other for a moment, Merlin feeling slightly awkward and still rather unsure over his companion, who finally breaks the silence with what can only be described is an annoyed huff before he closes the small distance between them and crouches beside the raven, leaving the candle resting on the floor once again.

Just when Merlin is about to ask what is he doing here, the stranger takes out a pouch that must have been hidden inside the cloak, pulling out bandages and tiny glass pots that the warlock recognizes to carry soothing salves.

Shocked, Merlin looks up to the stranger. Despite the hood (and dear gods is that ash?) covering his face, his mouth is set on a pleased small smile.

He then proceeds, with surprising gentle care, to grab Merlin’s hands, rolling up the tunic sleeves and look after the most prominent cuts and bruises.

The warlock is silent during all of this, feeling too astonished by the gesture to even form words to express his gratitude. He’s even managed to forget about the pain of his stripped magic.

The candle has melted half way when the stranger is finished.

Merlin can feel his guest’s stare as he inspects the bandages in his arm. They’re secure but a little loose…. And the familiarity of that is enough to momentarily astound him.

Almost unconsciously, a smirk forms on his lips, he only knows one group of people who always bandage wounds like that.

“Are you a knight?” Merlin can’t help but ask with a bemused tone. It would explain how his companion got into the dungeon without being followed and the bulky composure as well as- “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but your work is a little clumsy” he adds, hoping that he’s not sounding condescending.

The stranger, if anything, is shocked at Merlin’s deduction. His mouth is slightly agape, shoulders tense before sagging in defeat. He gives a tight nod, confirming the raven’s theory.

He then points at Merlin before shrugging, as if he were asking _‘How did you figure it out?’_

“Gaius-” the raven cuts himself when a tight pain in his throat makes itself known.

Right, he had forgotten the soreness caused by the summer heat.

The secret knight mumbles something too low for him to hear (but its sounds something akin to a curse), and soon a waterskin is shoved into his hands. The warlock can’t even bring himself to mumble his thanks before the greedily drinks the cool water.

The knight pats his knee in comfort once he finishes, while gesturing (quite pompously) for Merlin to continue.

(Huh, where has he seen that before?)

“Gaius gives the knights a basic course about wound treatment should one of them be injured in a patrol” Merlin slowly admits, smiling a bit at the memories, the nobles gobsmacked expressions when Gaius corrects their mistakes are always hilarious for the warlock, “And I’ve been to enough patrols and hunts with them to recognize it” he can’t help but cheekily add.

The knight snorts at this, shaking his head. He looks amused, shooting the raven a smile that has Merlin quickly returning it while he rolls down his tunic sleeves to hide the bandages.

The warlock can’t help but wonder who he is. In all honesty, despite the initial doubt, he feels at ease in his presence, something very little knights manage to make him feel (it’s mostly those he knows are utterly loyal to Arthur. Leon, Galahad and Kay are his secret favorites so far).

He’s so lost in thought that when a gloved finger makes him lift his chin up, he nearly jumps in surprise again (it takes a considerable amount of willpower not to show his wince when the movement rattles the iron cuffs).

His guest gives him a wry smile as he uses another finger to point at Merlin before lifting and pressing it to his lips.

The raven understands the message immediately, and he can’t help the small laugh from escaping him.

“Yeah, I can keep this a secret” he replies, giving the knight a secretive smile, who returns it before he starts to collect the leftover bandages, salve and the waterskin, making them disappear in whatever hidden bag or pocket inside the cloak.

Oh.

“You’re leaving?” Merlin feels stupid just by asking, but… despite his confusion, the company had been nice and comforting, enough to make him forget about his aching body and soul; even if the knight didn’t speak to him.

And the knowledge that when dawn breaks he’ll be put through the Witchfinder’s interrogations again-

Maiden’s mercy, he’s not going to lie. He’s terrified to just think about it.

The knight sighs, and his lips are set on a grim line when he looks back at the raven. His nod of confirmation looks resigned.

Merlin tries not to flinch at the answer.

His silent guest raises his hand, almost as if his about to _say_ something, but immediately drops it. He picks up the candle before turning to walk out of the cell, extinguishing the flame once he locks the door again.

The young warlock in the meantime has taken to wrapping his arms around his stomach, his eyes starting to sting at the loneliness that takes over the room.

But a small noise next to him makes him look up, squinting once again in the darkness, and gasps.

The knight hasn’t left yet.

Instead he has crouched once again, staring at Merlin with what seems to be uncertainty before he extends his arm through the bars, until he has grasped the raven’s right hand, rubbing soothing circles on the knuckles.

And then he gently pulls Merlin’s hand out and places a kiss on the back of it.

Furthermore, just like that, he hastily gets up and leaves, leaving a startled and slightly flustered secret warlock behind.

* * *

“Confess!” the Witchfinder yells for the eleventh time. At the same time, another whip hits Merlin’s aching shoulder.

“I haven’t done anything” he mutters through gritted teeth.

 _‘Just exist’_ a tiny voice whispers sadly in his head. Merlin can’t help some tears of pain from falling down his face at this and wonders how much longer will he’ll be able to withstand this.

He’s lost the concept of time again.

He doesn’t know how long the interro- torture, this was fucking _torture_ \- has been going on. The Witchfinder has taken to hoisting him up by the chains again, and this time, Merlin’s efforts to avoid the horse whip or the punches have made things so much worse: his movements have caused the cold iron cuffs to now literally pierce his skin, making the raven’s wrists a horrible combination of bruises and cuts.

 _“I haven’t done anything”_ Aredian’s son mimics before yanking Merlin by the hair and grabbing him by the throat, “Explain how ever since you were made Prince Arthur’s personal servant, our future king has been exposed to more magical attacks?” he hisses in the raven’s ear as he squeezes his grip.

The suppression of his magic and the chocking are the worse combination to ever be inflicted on him. Something inside him flickers, sending wave after wave of agonizing pain as his lungs try to find air.

Finally, the Witchfinder’s grip on his throat relaxes enough for Merlin to provide an answer.

“They- they inc- increased w-when he- he came of age” Merlin wheezes between gulps of air, “I- I have no- nothing to do with t-that”

(Name of the Mother, at least he hopes that’s the case)

The Witchfinder snarls, dissatisfied with the answer.

Personally, Merlin believes that to be a small victory for himself.

“Hmm, I don’t believe that’s entirely true, birdie” the Witchfinder then says as he lifts his rough hand to trace the fallen blood on Merlin’s arms, who despite his attempts, can’t fight the whimper that escapes him. His torturer smirks, “Does it hurt?” he asks with fake soft tone before he grips the iron cuffs and presses them onto the raven’s skin.

Pain explodes behind his eyelids.

His bones, _his blood_ \- it’s all throbbing and howling inside of him-

Merlin doesn’t know how he manages to avoid screaming.

“Oh birdie” Aredian’s son simply give a soft tut, “I know it hurts, but I can make it go away” he continues, smiling with unconvincing understanding as he grabs Merlin by the chin, forcing him to open his eyes to look at him, “Confess” he whispers.

Merlin spits at him.

“Never” he hisses with all the venom he can muster.

But the Witchfinder simply smiles. It’s sadistic, and it promises to introduce Merlin to all the cycles of hell for his lack of coordination.

“So be it”

* * *

Merlin wakes up feeling as if he’s burning.

His wrists are singing with ache, his throat stings from the lack of water, his head is pounding from the impact at having fallen unconscious once more after the end of the torture.

With half a sob, he tries to once again go through breathing exercises to focus on anything other than the pain, but it’s futile.

He can’t even find the strength to sit up.

Instead, he just lays there, on his side, eyes focused on some strings of hay as if they held the answers to everything.

His only consoling thought is that tomorrow Uther will decide whether or not Merlin is innocent. He desperately hopes that his lack of confession is enough.

Merlin’s eyes close again soon after.

* * *

He wakes to a hand holding him up by the neck and a waterskin being pressed on his lips.

And Merlin- he can’t help but stare at the knight in awe.

He came _back_ -

The knight looks thunderous, but he seems to soften a bit while Merlin once again greedily accepts the drink.

“Thank you” the raven weakly croaks once he’s finished. His companion only gives a small grunt in response before he gently grabs Merlin’s forearms in an attempt to help him sit up.

The warlock complies, but not without being able to hold back moans of pain. It honestly takes a great deal of effort to stay up.

Under the fickle light provided by the candle, the knight’s mouth is set on a thin and quite obviously displeased line. Merlin tries to give him a tiny grin, but, gods, even _smiling_ hurts, so what comes out is more a grimace.

The knight simply sighs as he reaches for the small pouch containing the bandages and salve, setting himself to work.

It’s not until his secret caretaker has wiped most of the blood on his arms when Merlin can’t contain his curiosity anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts out. The knight briefly pauses with his ministrations, shrugging, before continuing. Merlin frowned before tilting his chin with determination.

(Listen, there was a reason he always managed to make Arthur open up: he never knew when to stop until he had an answer)

“You’re helping someone who’s a suspect of sorcery” he pushed on, “If you’re find out, they’ll flog or banish you. Or do both or….” Merlin can’t help but whisper at this point, “Or worse, the king will order your execution”

The knight simply gave him another shrug, as if saying _“Your point?”_

“The point is that Arthur would be losing one of his most loyal men” the raven says, and his companion briefly tenses when he brings out the Crown Prince, “He’s horrible at talking about feelings, but he hates losing you”

A small sigh escapes the knight and Merlin breaths out a laugh.

(And he’s once again forgotten about the pain)

“I’m serious! I know he can be a prat in training, but he cares” he keeps on insisting, a fond grin forming on his lips almost immediately. It’s not even an exaggeration, Arthur hates when one of the knights falls in battle or in a tournament, and he’s cold and snappy for a week until he finally accepts the fact that they’re not coming back.

The knight now has a small grin on his face (and again, the feeling of familiarity strikes the warlock, he’s seen that grin before, but where?) as he shakes his head.

 _“If you say so”_ he seems to be replying.

“You still haven’t answered my ques-” the quip dies in Merlin’s mouth when the knight accidentally rattles the cuffs.

He can’t help it, he cries out and shuts his eyes when the pain hits him. He falls to the side, but the knight manages to catch him, carefully letting him rest by his lap while Merlin attempts to regain his breathing, but by the Mother, it’s nearly impossible.

The knight pats his cheek in an attempt to make him open his eyes, but the raven flinches at the action.

He can hear his secret caretaker give out a shaky breath before he feels fingers gently running down his hair. The warlock lets out a faint sigh of his own, finding the motion soothing and comforting, but he doesn’t dare to open his eyes.

(Honestly, right now his head feels it was hit with a mace)

The knight then continues to wipe and treat his worst injuries with more care, occasionally pausing to tread his fingers through his hair when the warlock whimpers slightly.

It’s not after a while when the raven realizes that his knight has stopped with his treatment and is instead focused on playing with his black locks. By then, the pain has once again gone into a bearable state of ignorance, so what greats the warlock when he opens his eyes is a face partially hidden by the low candlelight, ash, and the hood.

He has a strong jaw, and the raven swears to see a flicker of golden hair for a moment (but that could just be wishful thinking from his part)

“Do I know you?” Merlin whispers, not being able to hide the small amount of wonder from his voice.

His silent knight once again gives him a wry smile as he takes Merlin’s hand and places a kiss on the back of it once more.

And then, he softly lifts the raven’s head and kisses his brow.

He leaves almost immediately after that, but not before gently accommodating a bewildered Merlin on the ground as if he were a maiden.

And gods, his heart feels like it’s about to hammer out of his chest, and there’s a small smile on his face when he finally manages to fall asleep once more.

* * *

Being splashed with a bucket of cold water is a horrible wake up call.

(He can bet that it was left outside for the cool summer air to freeze it up on purpose)

Merlin doesn’t even have time to even mutter a complaint about it; once he finally manages to open his eyes to blink back the water, the Witchfinder is forcibly shoving a cloth over his head before two rough arms hoist him up (and gods, he has to bite his lip to prevent a scream from tearing of his throat, _he’s utterly done with this treatment damn it-_ ) and then, he’s being dragged out of the cell.

All the while, fear and anxiety curls on his stomach. Merlin still has hope that he’ll be proven innocent, that it will all be proven as a mistake. Maybe Arthur will let him leave for Ealdor in order to recover, he hasn’t seen his mother in a while-

It’s obvious when they’ve finally arrived to the throne room. One of the guards kicks him behind the knee and once again, down he goes towards the floor before his blindfold is harshly removed.

The light hurts his eyes, but Merlin quickly blinks back the brief blindness to focus on the nobles in front of him.

Morgana looks pale, light green eyes regarding Merlin’s appearance with slight fear.

Arthur seems like sleep has evaded him for the past two nights, his posture tense as he regards his manservant; but his sapphire eyes look hopeful.

And Uther-

The raven feels his glimmer of hope die when he catches the King’s stare.

“Merlin of Ealdor” Uther begins, voice cold, “You have been found guilty of sorcery”

The assembled members of the court explode in gasps and whispers while Arthur jumps from his seat, looking outraged, mouth opening to yell something-

Merlin doesn’t know what he’s saying. His hearing has become muddled, his sight glassy, his breath shorter-

And Merlin-

Merlin can only shake his head in denial while the numbness takes over.

 _No, no, no, no_ -

“I never confessed to anything!” he cries out, interrupting whatever was that Arthur and Morgana were screaming at the King. Beside him, he can feel the Witchfinder’s smirk.

“Which makes you just as guilty!” Uther yells. And in five quick paces, he has come to stand directly in front of Merlin, looking down at him in disgust “And to think I hired you myself” he hisses.

The backhand to the raven’s face shouldn’t have been shocking, but none less Merlin gasps when the king’s leather-bound hand meets his skin and add a new bruise and cut to the collection.

“You shall burn at first light on the morrow” Uther declares before signaling to the guards, “Take him away”

The guards practically have to drag him upwards, the strength having left Merlin. He briefly catches Gaius and Gwen’s eye, both of them looking devastated and full of grief, but the eyes that he mostly looks out for are Arthur’s.

He finds them just as they’re exiting the room; and Merlin feel his heart match the broken look that his Prince has.

 _“I’m sorry”_ the raven manages to silently mouth before the doors close on his face.

“I told you no one is innocent” the Witchfinder says, voice full of glee, “Tell me, would you prefer hardwood or softwood for the pyre?” he asks before cackling.

Merlin simply stays silent, shutting his eyes once the stinging behind them becomes too much to bear.

He ignores how one tear still manages to escape to roll down his face.

* * *

All is quiet in the cells that night.

Merlin finds himself sitting in the corner between the wall and the bars, staring into nothing as his magic whirls and lashes inside of him, attempting to break free.

To this point, the pain is ignored; he’s gone fully numb and into a state of shock to properly feel it. He’s only conscious of the cascade of tears that have taken to falling once Aredian’s son finally left him alone, after one more round of seemingly endless beating.

(Hey, about to die or not, he still has his pride)

So when the knight makes his appearance, Merlin can only glance at him tiredly.

“You must flee”

The gruff voice brings him out of his numb state. The raven stares at the knight, mouth agape for a moment before a sudden surge of anger courses through him.

“Oh, _now_ you talk” he can’t help the bitter tone on his voice. Sure, leave it to his silent caretaker to finally speak his final night alive. Merlin’s _sure_ he’s even faking the voice in order to still hide his identity.

Brilliant, truly.

The knight flinches before shaking his head. He’s griping the cell bars tightly and the raven can feel the power of his stare despite the hood (and, huh, there are no ashes in his face this time).

“Listen, I’m serious, I can-”

“Do nothing” Merlin cuts him off, feeling exhausted as the anger leaves him.

What’s even the point of staying mad?

What’s the point of hiding anything?

“ _Mer_ lin-” the knight’s voice sounds very familiar to him despite the pleading tone, but the raven shakes his head.

“No, really, why should I?” he interrupts once again as a hysterical laugh escapes him, “It’s not that the accusations are wrong!”

“… _What?_ ” the knight whispers, but a flood-gate has opened inside of Merlin, and he ignores his companion as he continues to let it all out.

“It’s not my fault I was born with magic!” the warlock whispers, tears falling down once again, “I haven’t done anything to harm Camelot! Only protect it!” he continues, as his breaths being coming in short, “It’s not my fault Uther hates magic, it’s not my fault that Arthur doesn’t-” he cuts himself when he comes down to his Prince, eyes widening.

“Oh gods, _Arthur_ ” he half sobs when the realization hits him.

“What of him?” the knight’s voice sounds guarded.

“I’ll never see him again” the raven breathes, running a hand through his hair and flinching when the iron cuffs cut him again.

“I- I wanted to tell him I had magic, to- to explain… that all I’ve done is for him, fighting my own people to keep him safe” Merlin mumbles, letting his head rest on his knees, “But I’ve never wanted to make him choose between me and his father” he adds, shaking his head, “I- I had hope to tell him once he became king…”

This time, a sob claws his way out.

“He’s- he’s my friend” he whispers, “I know it’s silly an- and ridiculous to say considering how much I- I’ve hidden from him, but he- he means a lot to me” he admits before letting out a sad chuckle.

The knight gives a sharp intake of breath at this, causing Merlin to focus on him once more.

He should be horrified that he just revealed the whole truth to his caretaker, but he’s so tired and miserable to even properly care. The raven gives him a small mournful smile.

“Even if I had the chance to escape, I would, believe me, for Arthur, _I would_ ” he reveals before sighing, “But I can’t” he admits, looking down at the damned iron cuffs.

“These are suffocating me from the inside” Merlin whispers, “I don’t think I would manage to run three paces before I fall unconscious”

Seven hells, dragging himself to his corner had left him dizzy, he actually fears that he won’t even be able to stand for his own execution.

“I’ll be lucky if these kill me first than the flames” he adds with a humorless laugh.

Either way, both are horrible ways to die.

He turns back his attention towards the knight, whose mouth is slightly parted, seemingly speechless as he stares at him.

“I’m sorry if you feel that I deceived you” Merlin says, grinning a bit, but is downcast, “I know you must have come here because you believed I didn’t have magic” he continues, fighting back another wave of tears.

“But… thank you. For everything” he finally says. Tentatively and with some effort, he extends his arm through the bars, searching blindly for his knight’s before finally finding it and giving it a hard squeeze.

“Can-” Merlin gulps, feeling unsure for a moment until he shakes the doubt aside, “Can I at least know your name?” he finally asks, “Please” he pleads.

He wants to know.

Gods, he _needs_ to know.

For a long moment, the knight doesn’t move.

Merlin’s shoulders drop, pursing his lips before making move to remove his hand-

But then the knight tugged, and there are gentle hands cupping his face and then-

Lips are meeting his.

Merlin gasps, but… he then finds himself returning it.

Maybe it’s because it will be the last time someone gives him affection.

Maybe it’s because he feels lonely.

But the kiss is making him feel warm and at ease and… loved.

He wants to dive deeper into it, only for his knight to pull away. His hood has been slightly pushed away in the middle of the kiss, and thanks to the lack of ash, Merlin catches sight of his eyes.

Which are… blue…

 _Sapphire_ blue.

The knight makes haste to get up just as Merlin’s eyes widen and draws a sharp intake of breath.

“Arthur?” he whispers.

But his knight- _his Prince_ \- has already left.

* * *

It’s cruel that he’s set to burn on his favorite season, truly.

The summer sky is clear and the sun shines bright above the courtyard and its crowd, practically illuminating the platform that’s about to become his final resting place. If he concentrates, Merlin can see the blooming sweet peas and gypsophilas in the edges of the forest.

He’s already tied up, the Witchfinder tying up the final ropes tight against him and the pole to purposely cause more discomfort on his abused body, all while sporting a sadistic and gleeful look on his face that grows wider every time that the raven draws a harsh breath.

“Spare a dying man the curiosity” Merlin mumbles when the last knot seems to be secure. The Witchfinder pauses, looking amused, “How did you do it?” he inquires.

Aredian’s son smirks.

“Oh, birdie, it wasn’t hard” he says, trailing a finger over where Uther struck him the other day. The raven tries to jerk away, but that only results in a dizzy spell, “I just had to sweeten my voice and cast some doubt in the King’s mind about all the things you’ve done while in service” he reveals, grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“Really, you made it quite easy” he adds on as he takes out the same piece of cloth he used to blindfold the warlock, looking thoughtful before barking out a laugh and proceeds to tie the rag onto Merlin’s mouth, gaging him.

“Try not to breathe too much smoke, eh?” he grins as he walks off the platform, giving a nod to someone above Merlin.

Uther.

The king demands silence from the crowd before jumping into his typical speech about the evils of sorcery, scowling down at the newest victim to be.

Merlin, in the meantime, tries to see if he can catch sight of his friends for what surely will be the last time. But no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find Gaius, Gwen or Morgana.

Least of all Arthur.

His eyes tearing up at the absence while his heart aches.

After last night- he thought-

But then, Uther has finished his speech, and the Witchfinder is lighting up the pile of hay and wood laid around Merlin.

It’s morbidly fascinating, seeing the fire eat the dry grass and timber with a strange quick yet slow ferocity as everything around him starts to get lost to a curtain of smoke.

The fumes are the first thing that hits him.

Merlin’s first instinct is to hold his breath, but the gag in his mouth makes it impossible to do so and soon enough he’s coughing as the smoke enters his lungs.

Pure agony explodes in his chest. The combination of the beatings, the iron cuffs and finally, the pyre are the final straw for him. He coughs harder, wishing he could bend over and gasp for air; his eyes are beginning to sting thanks to the approaching flames, he’s sure the cuffs have opened his cuts again-

But suddenly there’s shouting in the courtyard that grows larger than the roar of the fire.

For a moment, it’s almost like someone is yelling for him, but Merlin can’t be sure, it’s getting unbearably hot and his eyes hurt and he’s feeling dizzy and _gods_ \- _he can’t breathe_ -

The flames are closing in on him when he hears it.

Quick footsteps.

 _In the platform_ -

And then a familiar knight breaks through the flames.

“Merlin!” Arthur screams as he approaches him, seemingly not caring about the fire around him as he quickly starts to cut the ropes and remove the gag. The raven can’t bring himself to say anything, not when the world felt like it was slipping away-

And then, he feels two cuffs sliding off his wrists-

And something inside him flares, breaking free and singing under his skin-

But when Merlin cries out from the release of his magic, his lungs constrict under the inhalation from the fumes and the beating and he nearly stumbles on the floor as he attempts to breathe.

Arthur catches him before he falls directly into the fire.

“Hang on-” the blond tells him as he picks him up and jumps out of the flames.

(Merlin can feel his magic trailing around them, protective of his Prince-)

The warlock tried gasping for air once they were out, but it was impossible.

“Ar-” he tried to say, fingers weakly hanging on to the chainmail; the edges of his vision becoming dark, “Ar- Arthur-”

“Shh, Merlin don’t talk-” Arthur whispers as he pulls him tightly onto his own armored chest.

This was nice…

Breathing was becoming harder-

“I- I can’t-” Merlin attempt to say, but he’s cut by a violent coughing fit goes racks through his body before he jerks and starts to spasm. Arthur has stopped running to this point, looking down on him with growing horror.

“-Breathe” the blond finishes for him, before dropping himself onto the floor while at the same time he yells, “GAIUS!”

The world starts to become fuzzy and dark. Faintly, he can hear Gaius warning something about hitting his chest... but he sounds so far away…

The Crown Prince tightens his hold on him, as the pain becomes dull.

Arthur’s nicely warm…

Merlin’s eyes drift close-

“No. No! Merlin!” Arthur cups his cheek, “Stay awake, please!” his beloved begs. Merlin slightly manages to open his eyes to stare at him.

Gods, he wants to tell him-

He only manages to rise his other hand towards Arthur’s mouth, his fingers grazing his lips.

“ _Arthur_ ” Merlin murmurs with his last breath before his strength leaves him.

_“MERLIN!”_

The world goes dark.

The last thing he feels before numbness takes over is a pressure on his chest and a familiar pair of lips on his.

* * *

And then… air.

* * *

The afternoon sun is casting delicate shadows in his room; it’s rays warm on Merlin’s face when he finally comes to.

His whole body aches, back positioned over pillows to keep him reclined and he’s covered in clean bandages all over his torso and arms, but his magic sings under his skin in an attempt to soothe it.

But really, the first thing that Merlin really notices is a familiar blond seated by his side, his arms pillowing his head as his upper body rests on the raven’s bed.

Although it makes his throat throb, he chuckles at the endearing sight.

“Hey, prat” he mumbles as he pokes at Arthur’s cheek.

The Crown Prince immediately jumps, startled and confused before he realizes the warlock is awake.

“Merlin” he breathes in obvious relief, mouth curling into a smile which Merlin is quick to return before frowning.

“What- what happened?” he asks, wincing at how horse his voice sounds. His friend is quick to produce a cup of water for him to calm his aching throat before grimacing and settling down to explain to Merlin what he’d missed.

Arthur starts by admitting he suspected foul play from the Witchfinder when he found out he was Aredian’s son, thinking him strangely eager to condemn Merlin of sorcery. He, Morgana, Gwen and Gaius had spent the two days Merlin had been interrogated looking for evidence to prove that there was something amiss with him, when finally, Morgana and Gwen came upon an interesting object in the Witchfinder’s chambers.

“He had a journal” Arthur reveals, “It was full of names of people from the citadel and the court, all with behaviors, probable motives or just problems that could be twisted into thinking it was the act of sorcery” he continues, sounding disgusted, “Your name was first on the list. Gaius and Morgana were next” he whispers.

Merlin is quick to deduce what came next.

“So showing the journal to Uther-”

“-Was all it took to convince him, yes” Arthur finishes for him, looking solemn, “But when we got to show it to Father, they were already lighting up the pyre and you-” he cuts himself off, fisting his hands on the bed quilt as he closed his eyes and looked away.

Merlin gently takes one of the blond’s hand, giving it a squeeze to gain his attention.

“Hey, I’m alive” he murmurs, giving Arthur a soft smile.

His friend snorts.

“Barely so” he replies, biting his lip, “You- you stopped breathing, Merlin” he says.

(Are his eyes looking glassy?)

“I had to breathe air into your lungs, you know” Arthur adds.

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to snort.

“Good thing you had practice then” he says, pulling out his hold on Arthur to cross his arms over his chest.

(By the Mother, he’s not going to beat around the bush at this, enough is enough)

The blond winces slightly before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I can explain” he says, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Can you?” Merlin challenges, thinking back to the last night in the cell. He barely slept, his mind a whirlwind of _‘yes, it all makes sense’_ to _‘this makes just as sense as the dragon’s stupid riddles’_

On one hand, it explained how Arthur had avoided the guards, their routine implanted on his memory. And Merlin had to begrudgingly admit that the clopthole refusing to speak, knowing he could recognized it, was a smart move. Hell, Arthur even changed his voice when he did speak!

And on the other-

“I was a suspect of sorcery” Merlin said softly, picking at the bandages in his arm, “I _told_ you I have _magic_ and you-” his breath stutters, suddenly feeling rather shy, “You still came?” he asks, wonder coloring his voice.

This time, is Arthur who reaches for his hand, starting the now familiar comfort of rubbing his knuckles, looking thoughtful.

(And no, Merlin is not blushing at this)

(Not at all)

“Magic or not, you didn’t deserve to get tossed into the cells and tortured” he finally says, his stare fierce as he gently squeezes Merlin’s pale hand, “You’re my friend, I didn’t want to lose you” he admits, shifting a bit in the chair.

“And-” Merlin gulps, almost afraid to ask his next question, “And the kisses?” he lowers his head, voice timid, “Last time I checked… you liked Gwen”

Arthur actually lets out a nervous chuckle (which the raven bets that he’ll deny soon after) before he sits up straight, clearing his throat.

“Remember when we went to rescue Guinevere?” he eventually asks. Merlin nods, confused over where this is going, “You asked me why I couldn’t admit my feelings for her”

_“Well, they do say love makes you do strange things”_

Oh yes, Merlin remembers that conversation clearly. Arthur’s seemingly admitting his feelings had set a strange pang through his heart at the time.

“It-” Arthur briefly stammers, before once again squeezing the raven’s hand, “It was never about Guinevere” he finally whispers, his eyes boring into Merlin’s.

_“How can I admit that I think about… all the time?”_

_“Or that I care about… more than anyone?”_

_“How can I admit that- I don’t know what I’ll do if any harm comes to…?”_

Merlin lets out a shaky breath when the realization hits him.

“Then why did you say so?” he murmurs. Arthur gives him a sad grin.

“How was I supposed to know if you felt the same, Merlin?” he asks before adding, “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. After all, we _are_ prince and servant”

Merlin breathes out a laugh.

“You utter…clotpole” he says before reaching for Arthur’s face, cupping a hand behind his blond locks and pulling him up for a kiss.

Arthur goes still for a few seconds, until he realizes what Merlin is trying to say and eagerly returns the kiss, one hand coming to rest at the raven’s cheek while the other cups the back of his head.

Its feels warm and like coming home.

They break the kiss before it can get to deep, mostly to look out for Merlin’s still recovering lungs.

“We still need to talk about the magic thing, you know” Arthur mumbles as they rest their foreheads together, “Properly, I mean” he adds while fingers play with Merlin’s hair.

“I use it for you” the raven whispers, staring into the blond’s sapphire eyes, hoping he can see the sincerity in his own, “Only for you”

“I know that now” his beloved says, gifting him with a wry smile, “I suppose I’ve always known” he guesses, chuckling a bit.

“Because there’s something about me?” Merlin asks, recalling their second meeting. Arthur laughs.

“Nah” he smirks, “Too many bandits dying of falling branches becomes a little strange and hard to ignore, _Mer_ lin”

“There really is no pleasing you sometimes, is there _Sire_ ” the warlock huffs with pretended annoyance.

Arthur barks out a loud laugh at this while Merlin giggles, promptly feeling tired. The blond immediately takes notice of his.

“Rest” he tells him, placing a kiss on the raven’s temple. Merlin grips his hand as he begins to lean away.

“Stay with me?” he requests, shy yet looking hopeful. His beloved smiles softly.

“I’m not going anywhere without you” Arthur promises before drawing him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really have a thing for the main protagonist nearly dying in the love interest arms- IT’S ABOUT THE POSITION AND THE TENDERNESS


End file.
